tion of
wing.

It is impossible to convey a correct idea of the number and variety of
birds in these localities, and I will not trouble the reader by a
description which would be very laborious to all parties; but to those
who delight in ornithological studies there is a wild field which would
doubtless supply many new specimens.

I know nothing more interesting than the acquaintance with all the wild
denizens of mountain and plain, lake and river. There is always
something fresh to learn, something new to admire, in the boundless
works of creation. There is a charm in every sound in Nature where the
voice of man is seldom heard to disturb her works. Every note gladdens
the ear in the stillness of solitude, when night has overshadowed the
earth, and all sleep but the wild animals of the forest. Then I have
often risen from my bed, when the tortures of mosquitoes have banished
all ideas of rest, and have silently wandered from the tent to listen
in the solemn quiet of night.

I have seen the tired coolies stretched round the smouldering fires
sound asleep after their day's march, wrapped in their white clothes,
like so many corpses laid upon the ground. The flickering logs on the
great pile of embers crackling and sinking as they consume; now falling
suddenly and throwing up a shower of sparks, then resting again in a
dull red heat, casting a silvery moonlike glare upon the foliage of the
spreading trees above. A little farther on, and the horses standing
sleepily at their tethers, their heads drooping in a doze. Beyond
them, and all is darkness and wilderness. No human dwelling or being
beyond the little encampment I have quitted; the dark lake reflecting
the stars like a mirror, and the thin crescent moon giving a pale and
indistinct glare which just makes night visible.

It is a lovely hour then to wander forth and wait for wild sounds. All
is still except the tiny hum of the mosquitoes. Then the low chuckling
note of the night hawk sounds soft and melancholy in the distance; and
again all is still, save the heavy and impatient stamp of a horse as
the mosquitoes irritate him by their bites. Quiet again for a few
seconds, when presently the loud alarm of the plover rings over the
plain--"Did he do it?"--the bird's harsh cry speaks these words as
plainly as a human being. This alarm is a certain warning that some
beast is stalking abroad which has disturbed it from its roost, but
presciently it is again